Zyf's Journal Part 8
Here begins Part 8 of the Journals of Zyf, devoted of Myn…
I’m on a Boat!
The dragons were dead, and the loot divided. Pieces of the great beasts were salvaged for arcane rituals; eyes, teeth, claws, bones, blood, and hide. And, at last, there was meat for hungry bellies. Flush with their success over the winter wyrms, Zyf’s Talons explored the icy gulag. The mighty glacier had calved during the fight stranding the heroes in the great Northern Ocean atop a huge archipelago of ice and snow. Land was nowhere to be seen.
“Nothing,” said Quintain after scanning the heavens with a sextant, “it’s like we’ve fallen off the edge of a map.”
The elf’s extensive knowledge did him no good in this forsaken part of the world, and the dire situation made the usually jovial elf morose.
Zyf knew that if the long-lived elf was starting to feel the pressure of isolation, then the rest of the party were even worse off. “I’ve got to get them involved in a project,” thought the mighty dwarf and spiritual leader, “something that will both raise their morale and occupy their waking hours.” Zyf thought on the problem while wandering throughout the caverns walking by great wooden support beams, through the room containing saws hammers and pitch, and found himself in a room full of huge tapestries the size of sail-cloth depicting great navies. “But, what?” he pondered casually moving aside Emma‘s tome, ’Ship-Building for Dummies’, and settling himself down on a huge coil of nautical rope. “I’ll have to think about this logically,” Zyf said to himself. “One, we’re stuck in the middle of an ocean, with no chance of rescue. Two, we have lots of time and we’re all handy with tradesmen’s tools. Three, zzz-zzz-zzz…” The gentle swaying of the enormous ice floe rocked the powerful cleric to sleep.
He dreamt of felling great trees and steaming huge planks into gentle curves. He dreamt of pounding nails into a great frame and applying water-proof pitch. He dreamt of rigging and fabric that stretched to the sky. He dreamt of a pennant with the Lady Myn’s symbol emblazoned upon it. He was flying, but not flying…he was a cleric of the Travel Goddess, but this was something new and exhilarating. With sea foam in his beard and the horizon in the distance, he heard himself laughing in his dream. Myn was there, navigating the way, directing him to his destiny. Ah, the boat was marvelous and a joy to behold!
Zyf awoke with a start. “Yes!” he said aloud. “Yes yes yes! That’s IT!”
Zyf quickly gathered the group together and laid out his plan, describing his dream in full detail. He could see their eager eyes alight as they grasped the significance of it. Heads nodded and smiles appeared. Feelings of melancholy left and the tiny tendrils of joy took root in their hearts, minds and souls.
“So,” concluded the astonishing dwarf and morale builder, “that’s the plan. Tomorrow we start work on a floating temple to Myn.”
Want more? Goto Part 9 and be forever amazed!
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